


WE WANT OUT | Five Nights At Freddy’s

by junkwhoore



Series: Untold Stories [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse, Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Aftermath of Violence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Brother/Sister Incest, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Murder, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Clara Afton Is A Party Addict, Creep William Afton | Dave Miller, Creepy Behavior, Daddy Issues, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death Threats, Drug Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Eating Disorders, Elizabeth Afton Dies, Elizabeth Afton Is A Spoiled Brat, Elizabeth and OC are friends, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Issues, Five Nights at Freddy's 1, Forced Bonding, Forced Eye Contact, Freddy Killed The Child, Grooming, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied pedophilia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Killer Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's), Micheal Afton Watches Snuff Videos, Micheal Is A Creep, Neglect, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive William Afton, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Pedophilia, Possessed Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-The Bite of '87, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Step-Parent/Step-Child Incest, Step-Sibling Incest, Step-parents, The Bite of '87, The Man Behind The Slaughter, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Underage Drug Use, Underage Rape/Non-con, William Afton and Dave Miller and Purple Guy are the Same Person, William Afton is a creep, William Afton | Dave Miller being a Jerk, William Is The Man Behind The Slaughter, dark content, family murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkwhoore/pseuds/junkwhoore
Summary: 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘼 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎 𝙒𝙀𝙇𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝘿 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝘼𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙀𝘿𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙊𝙉 𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙄𝙇𝙔
Relationships: Elizabeth Afton & Michael Afton, Elizabeth Afton & Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller, Elizabeth Afton & Original Character(s), Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller, William Afton | Dave Miller & Henry Emily, William Afton | Dave Miller & Henry Miller
Series: Untold Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200671
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Stranger Danger

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags and the warnings; this story will not be following Five Nights At Freddy’s lore, and I will be adding my own details. This will be dark so if you are easily triggered, please make your way to my Wattpad account: 1800SADOMASOCHIST as it will be less extreme and less triggering.

William Afton was a lonely man, lonely in the sense that he lost a purpose to live or to continue with his work. His wife was more obsessed with her looks; she barely gave the man a second glance when he was home. Their bed was empty as she was always out, partying with her friends from dusk to dawn. Their room was still so quiet, too quiet. It made the voices in William's head scream, howling as they mocked his existence. His wife was the dominant one in their relationship despite the fact _he_ was the one who owned a company with his partner Henry.

His son, Micheal, was an odd case. William loved his oldest son dearly, of course, but he had strange tastes. The young man was always holing himself in his room, refusing to come out unless it was to eat or use the bathroom (showers included). It wasn't too strange as Micheal was seventeen; he simply didn't want to interact with his parents or his little sister, which was reasonable. Anyone outside of the family could classify them as dysfunctional. It was laughable, honestly.

Elizabeth, his sweet baby girl Elizabeth, was very impatient and liked to question William. She was curious about his new inventions for the new restaurants' Henry and he planned on opening. Elizabeth was excited when William had told her he designed a model after her, and the toddler became excited, demanding to see the design. It was draining trying to keep the young girl entertain all the time, unable to show her the newest attraction. Hell, it was becoming a chore, trying to avert Elizabeth's attention on something rather than his work; Clara had been complaining that their daughter had been pestering her when William was at work.

William was drowning, slowly losing his mind and his will to continue with his work and living. It was a struggle, but he managed for this long. Undoubtedly, much longer shouldn't be a problem, now, would it?

The pizzeria was loud as usual; the children gathering around the stage as the band played their iconic song. Henry stood in the back, waiting for his business partner. William had the files tucked beneath his arm and greeted his partner with a firm handshake, the two of them making their way to a more secluded space. They rarely made their appearance at the restaurant, but remodeling was in order, and Henry had a few ideas for the onstage performers.

"You've been stressing, Will," Henry bluntly pointed out, gesturing to the dark bags underneath William's eyes, spreading the files across their makeshift desk, uncapping his ballpoint pen.

William raised his eyebrows, never acknowledging Henry's accusations examining the datasheets. He frowned, meeting Henry's questioning gaze. "The hell is this all about, Henry? Night shift? Jesus, do you think that someone is going to bust into this place? No one is _desperate_ ," the brunette huffed, leaning back in the office chair, propping his feet up on a spare box. He thought this meeting would be serious, not Henry pulling excuses out his add to see him. Jesus, he wouldn't have minded if that's all, but the useless files weren't necessary.

The older male clicked his tongue, adjusting his glasses as he leaned on the makeshift desk, resting his chin on his folded hands. "William, my friend, humans are complex creatures, and a confusing species as well. You may think people won't be that desperate, but I assure you that they are. I've witnessed some rather bizarre things; I simply wish to be cautious. Plus, the animatronics themselves can fetch a pretty penny," he explained, handing William another file, pointing at the layout for the model labeled as _FREDDY FAZBEAR._

"The hell does Freddy have to do with anything? They're just robots." William scoffed, rolling his dulled eyes.

"Yes, that's the thing, William. Spare parts and scraps are in high demand right now; young inventors, cars breaking down—you name it. We have become pretty popular in the last few months, and we don't have the best security due to the funding," Henry informed. They both went quiet; while the restaurant was successful, the duo lost money from keeping the animatronics up-to-date. A few accidents happened behind the scenes that involved crying, furious parents, and a little hush money. Clearing his throat, Henry continued, "I thought it would be best to hire a nightguard, someone to watch over the place and the animatronics; the shift would be from midnight to six am. A hundred dollars a week isn't bad pay. It's easy money if you think about it."

William rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess. Still sounds pretty pointless if you ask me," he retorted, handing the papers back to Henry. He would have taken the chance; it would be nice to have some peace, but the back office was too stuffy, too cramped for his taste. The brunette would lose his mind; he hated being closed in, trapped in cramped spaces. It made his crawl thinking about it. "Well, you're the one picking out the night guard, not me. I'll just pick up the shift if no one takes it; are we going to make them wear a uniform?"

Henry retrieved his cigarette from his breast pocket, offering one to William. "But of course. It would be safer that way. Don't need to have someone calling the police because they think someone broke it, and I can always ask the wife to whip up a uniform; I'll have the applications out in about a week or so," he explained, lighting the bud, and passed the lighter to William.

He gratefully accepted the lighter, nestling the cig between his lips, and inhaled deeply. They were terrible for his health, but William didn't give a damn; he was already dying slowly, so why not speed up the process? The man smiled, cigarette pressed against his lips as he exhaled through his nose; the smoke burned, but it was an oddly pleasant feeling that he enjoyed over and over again. "Alright, alright. Just let me know if someone fills out a form. Can't just accept anyone, you know?" he taunted, gathering Henry's files, and shook his hand again. "Are you gonna stick around and see how this place is doing, or you gonna leave?"

Henry tapped the ash off, blowing out another ring of smoke. "I suppose I can look around and see how things are doing. It would be a waste if I didn't; are you staying?" he countered.

William laughed, "It's not like I have anything better to do today. Clara is out as usual, and the kids are at school; it's too quiet in my house." They exited the room, William holding the door open for his partner, and they conversed merrily, sniffing out their cigarettes, and flicked them into the nearby trash.

The pizzeria was loud and filled with chaotic energy as the children up and down the aisles. They gathered around the _Pirate's Cove_ , eagerly listening to Foxy the Fox ramble on about his tales of the briny blue while the band members, Bonnie the Bunny, Chica the Chicken, and Freddy Fazebear jammed out; the kids roared with merriment. The children's laughter drowned out the voices in William's head; it was pleasant.

Tucking his thumbs in his pocket, both William and Henry took a seat at a spare table, watching the kids run around with streamers in their hands while others consumed the cheesy pizza, grease smeared across the small fingers. Everything was going smoothly, perfect even.

"Hey! You fucking little shit!"

William turned around, standing to his feet. He watched as a larger male yanked a small girl to her feet, catching her with a slice of pizza in her hand. She sobbed, babbling incoherent words as the man berated her. He snatched away the door from her trembling hands, howling as she tried yanking away.

She looked like a doll, so cute and so small. William was sure she cracked under the other male's firm grip; tears streaked down her blotchy, red cheeks as the man finally eased up, muttering slurs beneath his breath. William didn't know why, but he felt so inclined just to hold her; he wanted to rock her in his arms and assure her that everything would be okay. The girl was precious, innocent, and fragile looking.

She would be the perfect friend for his darling Elizabeth. Her hair was unkempt, and she wore dirty clothes, but Afton could overlook that and couldn't judge the needy toddler for her appearance; he blamed her parents for sending their daughter out in this state. His body moved on its own, ignoring Henry as he approached the toddler—she looked to be around five or six—crouching down to her level. Drawing closer, Afton noticed her almond-shaped eyes, her freckled cheeks, and her dark at night curls. She was a beauty; she was beautiful, like a Chinese princess.

His fingers brushed against her cheek, wiping away her tears. "Hey," Afton mumbled, lowering his voice as the girl hiccuped, jerking her head away from him, pulling her knees to her chest. Usually, William would have snapped, but he understood her fear. Tucking a strand of hair behind her elf-like ear, the older man smiled, wiping her eyes with his sleeve, ignoring her jerky motions. "There, there, no need to cry," he urged, helping her to her feet. The girl did put up a fight at first, babbling words but eventually gave up, following Afton to the table, and sat down. Submissive, Afton noted, patting her head while Henry shot him a glance before looking back at the stage.

"Are you hungry?" William asked, gesturing to the front counter. The toddler glanced up, shuffling her feet before nodding meekly, squeezing her hands until they blossomed apple red. He smiled, taking her up to the counter to order a slice of pizza. "Okay, so what's your name? Gotta get you to your mother if she's around here."

She mumbled, fiddling with the loose seams in her shirt. "Aimi," the young one muttered, "and Mommy just left me here. I don't know where she went, though. She left me with a bag of clothes, but I don't know where the bag went. A bunch of ripped my bag and took my clothes."

William frowned, thanking the employee for the pizza, and sat Aimi down. He watched while she prodded the bubbles of cheese, looking up for his permission to eat; it made his heart throb. "Go ahead and eat; it's for you. I can buy you another one if you're still hungry." He smiled when Aimi took a bite out of the crust, thanking Afton for buying her food. Thankfully, he grabbed napkins and a small fountain soda for Aimi, handing her the cup when she finished up.

"All done," Aimi announced, discarding her trash, and retook a seat next to Afton. She swung her legs back and forth, gripping her dingy pants. The raven-haired girl sniffed, rubbing her red nose as her eyes burned. "I want my mommy," she mumbled, blinking back the burning tears. William ruffled her hair, stroking her tangled knots, and felt pity for the child.

William would keep her safe and make her feel welcomed. He would never abandon her like her bitch of a mother; she deserved everything. No child should be abandoned by their parents, especially in this day and age. So many creeps lurked these streets, preying on young kids without parents; William would make sure Aimi would be cared for and loved. He adjusted his tie and offered Aimi his hand. "I have a change of clothes in the trunk of my car; you're around the same size as my daughter. You would look nice in a white-and-blue dress," be noted, leading Aimi towards the entrance.

"Mommy told me not to go with strangers," Aimi hiccuped.

Aimi's mother had some morals and taught her daughter not to trust strangers, but Afton wasn't a stranger. Sure, some people may perceive his smile as creepy and unsettling, but he would never hurt anyone, not even a fly. "What your mother doesn't know won't hurt her; I'll have you back here before she even notices. I promise," he reassured, his lips curling into a smile, albeit it could be perceived as creepy.

With a sniffle, Aimi mumbled, " _Okay_."


	2. Is This Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunger is brewing in William’s stomach but he’s not sure exactly what it is; it doesn’t help that the hunger grows when he stares at Aimi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I’m surely going to hell for this chapter. There’s no redemption for me.

William found out two things when dressing Aimi. One: she was timid— _self-preserved_ —informing the older man that she could get dressed by herself, and two: she was malnourished. For fuck's sake, he could see her small ribs prodding through her bruised skin painfully and grimaced when Aimi whimpered, trying to tug the dress down her body. If he could, William would have bludgeoned her shit mother's skull in, but alas, she was nowhere to be found, leaving her daughter behind like the cruel bitch she was. No matter, William would protect her; he would be a better parent than Aimi's mother ever was. He was more gentle, murmuring reassuring words as he washed Aimi up, and slipped the dress over her frail body.

"There. Clean as a whistle," Afton declared, running his finger down Aimi's cheek. She sniffed, bunching the skirt in her hand while he led her out the bathroom, reassuring her that her mother wouldn't find out; he was only helping her, he promised. William urged her to keep up, telling Henry he would be leaving early, and he would phone him later that evening. They exchanged goodbyes as he scooped the young girl into his arms, carrying her out the front door. William would take good care of Aimi, he promised.

Elizabeth would love her new friend.

Thankfully, William had Elizabeth's booster seat still buckled in, and the girls were around the same height and weight. The girls being around the same age and size made everything easier for Afton; cautiously, the brunette got her settled in the car, handing her one of Elizabeth's forgotten plush dolls. "My daughter, Elizabeth, is always leaving these things lying around. This one—Bonnie—used to be her favorite; she likes Chica now. Do you have a favorite one?"

The little girl shook her head, firmly grasping the Bonnie plushie. "No, but Bonnie is pretty. They're blue," Aimi mumbled, fingers gingerly stroking the stuffed rabbit's fur, pressing her face into the lop-sided ear. "Can I keep them?" she asked quietly, averting her eyes to the ground, chewing on her bottom lip.

_Of course; anything for you, angel_ , William thought, nodding his head and ruffling her hair. "Yeah, go ahead and keep it. Eliza has plenty of others back at home; I can always buy her a new one if she wants Bonnie," he stated, taking his rightful spot in the front, and started the car. The engine roared to life, and Afton pulled out of the parking lot, telling Aimi that they were going to his house. At first, the younger girl wanted to argue, but she shut her mouth, squeezing the stuffed rabbit as she just agreed.

They rode in silence, William checking in the mirror for any changes in Aimi's behavior. She remained quiet; eyes averted downward as the car rolled along the street. It would be a while until they got home; William thanked God they had two spare rooms. No holidays were coming up, and Clara never brought any friends home; she always stayed at their house if she was out all night. William thought it was fair that Clara took some time to herself as she was a stay-home mom with a small business on the side—she stayed at home, managing an online shop specializing in _FREDDY FAZBEAR_ merchandise and clothing apparel.

"Do you have any friends your age?" The older male asked, peering into the mirror.

Aimi shook her head, squeezing her new plushie. "No, the kids at school think I'm weird and dirty. They called me mean names and said I was stinky," the brunette recalled, frowning as she squeezed Bonnie again.

William's frown deepened; he would make sure they fill out the proper paperwork to transfer Aimi into a different school. The adoption process would be tricky, but he was sure he could manage. All that mattered was getting the little girl home; thankfully, Elizabeth had a large wardrobe, and the girls were the same size, so his daughter could share her clothes until Afton took Aimi shopping. "Well, you don't have to worry about that now. When you get to my house, you can change into something more comfortable, like pajamas or sweats and a teeshirt. Whaddya say? That okay with you?" he asked, smiling when she nodded, mumbling a meek "yes."

The music was a nice change; William hated sitting in silence. The voices were screaming at him, berating him as he gripped the steering wheel, muttering beneath his breath. No, William didn't need to have a meltdown right now, not in front of the precious angel. Everything needed to be perfect; he couldn't afford to have a breakdown right now. That's the last thing she needed to see—

He lurched forward in his seat, gritting his teeth as the front bumper collided into an unsuspecting deer, denting the front of his car, and sent the poor animal across the unforgiving street. "Fucking— _goddamn_ it!" William bellowed, smacking his fists into the steering wheel, blaring the horn. God, he was such a fucking idiot, not paying to the road and talking to himself again. He was stupid, an idiot, a fucking moron for losing focus! Pinching the bridge of his nose, Afton mentally prepared to drop another couple grand to repair the bumper and explain to Clara that their car would be out of commission for a little while—she was never happy when she was unable to use the vehicle.

Pulling over and shutting off the car, the brunette turned around in his seat, forcing a smile to his lips. "Did that scare you, Aimi?" he inquired. The brunette sighed when she shook her head, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Good; I'm going to check out the bumper real quick to see just how bad the damage is. It won't take long." Luckily, no cars were passing by, and the street was empty, desolate of any sign of life. Taking his fingers through his unruly curls, William clicked his tongue, grimacing at the large dent that stared back at him. The deer carcass did a number on the bumper and the hood; the metal caved in, streaked with blood splatters.

William stared at the bleeding carcass, feeling nothing. He didn't feel remorse, nor did he feel sorry; it was strange. All things that have a beginning also have an end; maybe that's why the brunette felt no guilt. But, he felt another sensation; Afton couldn't describe the feeling, but it resonated and bubbled beneath his skin. It swelled like a balloon in his stomach, but it was a _good_ swelling; the smeared blood made him _happy_ in a twisted way. His fingers dug into his forearms as he gritted his teeth. _What the fuck is wrong with you_ , Afton thought, forcing his eyes away from the animal carcass; _ordinary people don't stare at dead bodies for fucking amusement. Sickos do that bullshit._

Shaking his head, William made a quick phone call, explaining that he would need someone to tow the car, and shot a simple message to his wife that they would have a guest over for a few days—of course, Clara didn't particularly care as she responded with a simple _okay_ and never messaged again—and he was going to fix up the guest bedroom for Aimi. He piled back into the car, running his spindly fingers through his hair before turning around, smiling when he found Aimi asleep, face pressed against the seatbelt, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth, and the Bonnie plush held against her chest. He smiled crookedly, smoothing back her curls, and kissed her forehead.

She was beautiful as she slept, snoring lightly. William wanted nothing more than to hold the small girl in his arms; he wanted to cradle her tiny body and keep her safe. Aimi was a docile little creature, submissive and quiet. She was unlike his other children, who either locked themselves in their rooms for hours and hours or nagged him about the animatronics he and Henry designed for their new businesses. He oddly enjoyed the sound of her uneven breathing, watching her chest rise and fall with each inhale and exhales; it was fascinating.

William brushed her plush cheeks with his calloused fingers, curiously watching Aimi shy away from his touch, mumbling incoherent phrases in her sleep, whimpering. Her mumbling stirred something within the man's soul, eyes curiously watching as her mouth fell open, caressing her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, wetting his lips. God, she had such a cute mouth; it was so tiny. It was tempting just to press his thumb against the tip of her tongue; the thought made William shiver. Was it wrong that he wanted to steal her away from the world, abandon his ungrateful family just to keep Aimi all to himself? He was sure that he could adequately care for the petite girl; she was small enough to be cradled in his arms still like an infant.

Giving her forehead one last kiss, William leaned back in his seat, lit up a cigarette from the glove compartment, and waited for the tow truck to come to collect them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The house was quiet when William carried Aimi in, supporting her head as he ascended the stairs, cradling her petite body in his arms. Her ivory flesh was hot, scalding to the touch; goodness, William should have stopped by the pharmacy before returning home. Thankfully, there were some cans of chicken noodle soup in the cabinet and a whole clove of garlic in the pantry. "I got you," he mumbled, patting her back as Aimi cried out, fussing as she gripped the front of his shirt, wrinkling the white button-up shirt, squinting her eyes.

"Hot," she whimpered pitifully, latching into William's shirt when he laid her down on the couch, patting her cheek lovingly.

"I'll only be gone for a couple of minutes; going to put some soup on the stove. Uh, you like cartoons?" William asked stupidly, watching Aimi bob her head up and down. With a crooked smile, the brunette flipped on the television, popping in a VHS tape. "You can go ahead and watch some cartoons. I have plenty more if you don't like _Disney_ movies," he added, giving Aimi a small blanket to cover up with, ruffling her hair before strolling into the kitchen.

He raked his fingers through his hair, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The fire brewed hotter in his stomach, bubbling underneath his flesh, consuming his lungs. It was a strange mixture of fire and electricity that danced through his veins, mostly in his groin; William grunted, adjusting his belt and leaned against the marbled counter. A cold shower would help douse the raging fire underneath his flesh and the _other_ dilemma that was tucked beneath his belt, straining against his taut stomach. Maybe if he distracted himself with cooking, perhaps the _problem_ would take care of itself.

The soup boiled on the stovetop. William minced the cloves of garlic and a carrot stick (homestyle chicken noodle soup was best with garlic, slices of celery, and chopped carrot in Afton's opinion) and stirred generously. The swelling never went down; the pressure on his groin increase, tightening and straining against his slacks while pouring the steaming broth into a porcelain bowl, gritting his teeth. The bowl was going to shatter in his grip, bringing the soup out to Aimi, who sat up against the couch, pillow pressed to her small chest, and her knees pulled towards her.

He caught a glimpse of her bruised thigh, the purple-yellowish eyesore clashing with her ivory skin, making William grimace. How could he have not noticed that earlier? Afton should have fully inspected her body and bought the necessary medical equipment to tend to her bruises—God knows what other wounds she had on her body; he berated himself, calling himself foolish for not checking for any marks.

For a moment, the thought of ramming his _Buick Regal_ into Aimi's mother was more arousing than anything he had been thinking about earlier.

William took a seat next to the raven-haired girl, squeezing her shoulder. Those cute hazel eyes met his murky blue eyes, neither one of them saying anything while the blaring music from An American Tail fell upon deaf ears. From her shoulder, his calloused hand traveled to her supple thigh, absentmindedly squeezing—it was warm and surprisingly soft beneath his touch. How she shuffled away was cute but futile, William thought, inching closer towards her. Afton assured Aimi that he only wanted to help, and he would need to see her legs—he pointed out the ghastly blotchy wound that called out to him.

Aimi refused, beginning to sob profusely, pressing the pillow against her exposed legs. "M-Mommy will get mad again; Mommy said not to tell anyone," she wailed, fat tears raining down her face, her body trembling. She fisted the pillow, having a meltdown, and all William could do was pull her into his lap, cradling her frail body. His heart throbbed, and his stomach churned, stroking her back gingerly.

"Your mom won't find out, I promise. We just need to check out your legs to see if any of them got infected," William explained, pushing her dress upwards, sucking his bottom lip when he noticed the other bruises that adorned her small legs, hiking higher and higher, resting just below her stomach. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, carrying Aimi to the kitchen, and went to the bathroom for any medical supplies they had laying around and a change of clothes for her. From what Afton could remember, compressing the bruised area with elastic bandages would squeeze the tissues and help prevent blood vessels from leaking; using compression can lessen the severity of the bruise and help to reduce pain and swelling.

Thank Christ they had a bundle of them laying around in the bathroom.

William gathered the elastic bandages. The aloe vera (aloe vera reduces pain and inflammation), mumbling beneath his breath, flinching when Micheal walked in, earbuds stuffed in his large ears. "Jesus H. Christ boy, you're going to give me a heart attack. I thought the house was empty," Afton mumbled, shutting the cabinet and moved out of his son's way.

Micheal shrugged his shoulders, splashing water on his face. "Mom and Elizabeth left; said something about how she was going to teach Elizabeth how to act like a proper younger lady. I know she's just going to take her shopping and spoil her rotten—she always does," Micheal bitterly mumbled, wiping his mouth, and eyed the supplies in his father's arms. "The hell you got all that crap for?"

"Uh, your mother must not have passed along the message; we have a guest staying with us for a while. It'll be good for everyone. Elizabeth won't bother you anymore, and she will have someone to play with after school," Afton explained, escorting his seventeen-year-old son to the kitchen, handing him the bottle of aloe vera gel, waving to Aimi. "Aimi, this is my son, Micheal. Micheal, this is Aimi. Like I told you, she'll be staying with us for a while; isn't she a beauty?"

His father calling Aimi a beauty was strange, but it didn't raise any red flags. Micheal raked his eyes over the small girl, shrugging his shoulders. "She's cute, I guess," Micheal mumbled, popping the lid off the green gel, trading his father the green gel for the elastic bands, and watched his father apply the cold, clumpy gel to the yellowish-purple blotches, binding the elastic bandages to the bruised area, fingers brushing against her skin. "Do you know when Mom will be back? She said she would cook dinner before she left," Micheal asked, tightening the last bandage, and patted Aimi's thigh.

"Uh, your mother never said what time. I can just order take out; it's easier that way, plus there won't be any dishes in the skin," William proposed, scooting Aimi over and rummaged in the drawer for the menus. "Where the fuck did I put those stupid menus?" he mumbled, annoyed that all he could find are the menus Elizabeth scribbled all over, making the fonts unreadable.

Micheal gestured to the fridge, helping Aimi off the counter, holding her hand (more like she wouldn't let go of his hand, squeezing until his knuckles blossomed blood red). "Mom moved the menus out of Elizabeth's reach; she said, 'she didn't like Eliza fucking up the good menus.' Her words, not mine," he recited, taking Aimi into his arms when she whined.

"I'll let you have it," William retorted, snatching the Chinese take-out menu off the fridge, handing it to his son. "Tell me what you want and then help Aimi pick out what she wants to eat. It'll help you two bond."

"You act like she's gonna live here," Micheal snorted, shifting Aimi in his arms, bouncing her up and down.

"If I get the proper paperwork done, she will be. Her shit mother didn't want her," was William's terse response, ruffling Aimi's hair, and stole away to his study, leaving the quiet child in his son's care.

Micheal didn't see what was so special about Aimi; she was well underweight and underdeveloped. She could have been mistaken for a three-year-old if Micheal was to ask anyone who saw her. Her cheekbone was sunk in, she was a sickly shade of alabaster white, and dark bags clung beneath her hazel eyes. Her midnight black hair was thin like hair, exposing her pale scalp; he grimaced, taking her into the living and sat her down. "You know how to read?" Micheal asked, handing her the menu.

Aimi didn't answer, averting her glance downward, and pulled at the silk ribbon, kicking her legs back and forth. Micheal prompted the question, but still, she didn't utter a single word. Micheal clicked his tongue, leaning forward, and spoke slowly, "Are you fucking slow or something? I asked your dumb ass if you know how to read." His voice was clipped, heavy, and laced with hatred as Aimi scooted away from Micheal, pulling her knees to her chest. He grew agitated, deciding to just pick for her since the girl was stupid and couldn't speak for herself; he grumbled beneath his breath, stomping toward his father's study.

It was already bad enough Elizabeth was annoying, prissy, and arrogant, just like their mom, and now, their incompetent father brings a random kid into their home. A stupid kid who couldn't even utter a single phrase; that singlehandedly pissed him off. His rage was skyrocketing, bubbling and brewing in his stomach; the fire burned beneath his flesh as he entered his father's study, relaying the list back to him. "She's slow," Micheal mumbled, stuffing his hands in his back pocket, kicking the doorpost.

"She's _shy_ ," William corrected, swiveling around in his chair, adjusting his reading glasses. "It's going to be a while before she opens up to anyone. It doesn't mean she's slow. I thought I taught you better than that."

With a click of his tongue, Micheal rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Whatever. I'm going back to my room; she's not my problem."

"No, you're going to take her with her. I still have work to do, and all you do is hole yourself in your room. Some interactions between the two of you won't hurt you," Micheal instructed, waving his son off.

For the first time in his life, Micheal was tempted to lunge at his father or smack that beat around like a rag doll. Now she was going to be intruding in his life, and he would have to watch her; he already had to watch Elizabeth since their mother was irresponsible, partying all day, and their father was off his rocker at the time, or straddling himself with work; a goddamn workaholic. It was fucking ridiculous, Micheal concluded.

He dragged Aimi back to his room, ignoring her strangled cries, and tossed her on the bed. The young brunette promptly yanked out the cassette he was watching, replacing it with a more child-friendly movie, and sat Aimi down in front of the small television, ordering her to remain seated; he smiled when she nodded her head.

The intro music blared, and Micheal could care less for the movie; he had more exciting things to worry about. He glanced over to Aimi, noticing her eyes were glued on the screen, admiring the pig herder that appeared on the screen. With her focused fixated on the movie, Micheal slid his hand up the curve of her spine, feeling her shiver before wrapping his hand around her slender neck.

Today would be a good day to get away with murder. After all, no one cared enough to keep her around.


End file.
